If you pull it too much, you could go blind, Victor. Ok, if that was one of my first thoughts of the morning, it must be time to write Munch again soon. Sorry.

Part Forty-Two: Start Again

“The world is older than any of you know,” said Giles, “and contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, Demons walked the earth; made it their home…their hell.”

Amy was not present for that conversation, but she can see it so clearly in their minds—Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow—each and every one of them recalled it as they watched the First and Jasmine stare each other down—the assembled heroes, villains and monsters waiting for one of them to make a move; Wesley, particularly, fixed upon his doppelganger.

She could follow the strand of memory back in time.

“In time, they lost their purchase on this reality,” said and the way was made for the mortal animals. For man.”

Angel and his team are lost in memories of Illyria, Amy realizes, and she follows that thought to the Deeper Well. “There’s a Hole in the world,” says Spike. “You’d think we would have noticed.”

There was always something missing. She gathers time together, infinitesimal tachyons soaking into her flesh. She is not Amy Madison. A smooth British voice is reading her a children’s story. She is not Winifred Burkle, but she can see the wisps of her spirit coalescing before her—slim, beautiful woman she thinks. Fragile. All these human beings are fragile. This movement in three dimensions. It is a cage. It is a prison.

And in an instant, she is standing among the heroes and the villains and the monsters—her skin blue, armored in carcass. They tremble at her visage, for she is powerful, and beautiful.

“I am Illyria,” she says, staring at the First. “And there shall be a reckoning.”

Part Forty-Two: Start Again

“The world is older than any of you know,” said Giles, “and contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, Demons walked the earth; made it their home…their hell.”

Oh, thank god, when I first glanced at this I thought that you'd pulled a Stephen King and pulled a "everything back to the beginning" ending. I'm relieved and excited.

This weeks Open on Sunday drabble topic is "Unexpected".

Musk

She wakes up disoriented, confused, fuzzy around the edges.

There's a stinging between her thighs. It's a good sting, rightful, a badge of power, to be worn as proudly as any she's got slaying: battle scars of her life. The smell of Angel in this bed is deep, odd, musky. For a moment, she revels in it.

He's not there. Odd. She swings out of the warm bed with its red sheets, and goes looking for him.

The last thing she expects to find in the alley is a dead girl, throat gone, Angel's scent in the blood and hair.

Part Forty-Three: Lost

Time rippled where Illyria’s fist punctured the First’s visage, and many things—quite literally—happened at once. The First screamed, and the gathered monsters began to stir from their lull, shaking off Willow’s magic. Illyria screamed, too—her hand—once Amy’s hand—scalded by the entity’s energy field. In the sky above them played out Angel’s last stand against Wolfram & Hart.

“You can’t be here, Illyria,” said the First, it’s voice now venomous. “That body can’t contain your full power.” “No,” said Illyria. “Within hours, maybe minutes, this form will be destroyed.”

“No,” said Wesley. “Well be finished before that.”

And the First, already stunned by Illyria’s blow, was staggered as Jasmine grabbed its face and kissed it, each glowing with pulsating light.

“Uhm, did I miss something” said Spike.

“Yes,” said Wesley, walking toward the two entwined entities, and as Wesley approached, Jasmine’s fingers dug deep into the First’s being, and pulled from it a gem composed of black fire, and the First transformed into a horned, bat-winged beast, and then disappeared all together.

“Your evil, Wesley,” said Illyria. “It’s yours to claim again.”

“Yes,” said Wesley, his hand rising tentatively. “Yes, it is.”

His fingers clenched the gem, and the black fire consumed him for a moment, and then receded. Wesley, solid now, turned to Angel.

“This is too far gone now, Angel,” said Wesley. “I can’t stop it.”

“It’s OK Wes,” said Angel. “I think I’ve seen where this is going.”

“Where what’s going, said Buffy, beginning to tremble. Connor, near her, only stammered, unable to raise his voice.

Angel, Spike and Gunn looked at each other tentatively and then they, as one, turned toward Illyria.

“Time to die to save the world,” said Gunn. “Again.”

“Bloody third time for me,” said Spike.

Angel looked first at Buffy, and then to Connor. “I love you,” he said to both of them. “Remember, this doesn’t end here.”

“But what about Amy,” said Justine. “Is she…?”

“We are going,” said Illyria, and the four of them faded, as though they were never there. And in the sky, the four waged war against the forces of Wolfram & Hart, until the picture disappeared.

“The monsters are gone, too,” said Oz, “Huh.”

“So’s Lilah,” said Justine. She disappeared when the monsters did. And I haven’t seen Ethan or Marcie—well, I’ve never seen Marcie—for ages.

“We’ll look for them before we leave,” said Riley. “I’m not leaving anyone here if we don’t have to.”

“So,” said Willow. “Did we win?”

All eyes then turned toward Jasmine, but she said nothing. Instead, she smiled, and disappeared.

BTW--that's not quite the end. A few loose ends to tie up before it's done. Soon. Promise.

Part Forty-Four: Found

Ethan ran through the city hidden in time, a maniacal giggling dogging his steps. He stumbled, and fell, and suddenly there was an eerie silence.

“Look,” said Ethan. “I know I’ve made some mistakes--backed the wrong horse—and I’ll make amends. I’ll go back to jail.”

His pleading was met with more silence.

“Please.”

“That wasn’t the deal, Ethan,” said Marcie. “And look what I have. That’s right. You can’t see it.”

Marcie giggled and Ethan cried, sobbing the words “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

There was a click, and the bracelet on his arm exploded, and as Ethan blacked out from the pain, the laughter grew louder.

Riley knew by the whisper in his hear that it was over.

“Ethan’s gone,” he said, his voice icy cold. “Marcie’s back. We’re going home.”

With a nod from Giles, Willow re-opened the portal to their world. Oz gave Riley a serious look. “What do you mean, he’s gone.”

“I’ll explain that when we get home.”

Oz looked at the space where he knew Marcie was. “You damn well better.”

The portal brought them back to Los Angeles—to the Hyperion—where anxious U.S. troops greeted them with guns and twitchy fingers.

“Belay that, soldiers,” said Riley, tossing Doc’s unconscious body toward them. “We’re home.”

“Ah, man,” said Xander. “I can’t believe I spent that whole time possessed by a hyena. I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“You could have the funny syphilis again,” said Willow, helpfully.

“Point.”

Buffy looked seriously at Justine.

“The offer's still open,” she said. “You can come back to England with us. Get a handle on the slayer thing.”

Justine looked at Oz, but couldn’t read anything in his eyes. He was still angry. She could tell.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said. “But I think I’m needed more here.”

“I can arrange transportation back to England for you,” said Riley.

“Yes,” said Giles. “I think we’d appreciate that.”

“But what about Angel” said Connor, exacerbated. “What happened to them?”

“They made a final stand against the forces of evil,” said Wesley. “And then they disappeared. That seems not to have changed.”

“We have to find them,” said Connor. “They’re not dead. It can’t end like that.”

“It didn’t,” said Wesley. “I don’t know where they are, but we’ll find them.”

“I’ll help,” said Oz. “If Uncle Sam’s got a problem, I quit, but I’m helping. We owe that much to Amy.”

“You’ll have your backing,” said Riley. “I’ll see to it.”

Oz glaed at Riley for a moment, and then nodded. Justine let her hand fall onto Oz’s, and he clenched it tight, as though he were in danger of slipping away. Willow saw this, and felt a deep, abiding sadness well inside her. “We’ll give you all the help we can. The Council. Won’t we Giles.”

“Yes, yes of course,” said Giles. “Any assistance you need.”

“I’m staying, too,” said Faith. “Justine needs to learn the slayer ropes, somehow, and I owe tall, dark and billowing too much to leave.”

Faith and Buffy met each other’s gaze, just then, but what transpired between them was unreadable to everyone else.

“Fine,” said Buffy. “But being a Watcher’s not the same as being a slayer.”

“I’ll learn as I go,” said Faith.

Buffy and her team were gone soon, and Oz’s team returned to their headquarters. Accommodations were made for Faith and Connor, and they strayed soon to their rooms. Riley spoke quietly for a moment to Riley, and then Riley and his wife left, too. Oz started to say something to Justine, but she simply kissed him. There was a bind between them now, Oz knew, and what would come of it didn’t overly concern him. It wasn’t what he’d had with Willow, but he was content with it to be what it was. She rested her forehead on his for a moment, kissed him again, and then she, too, left.

That left Oz alone with Wesley. The two men sat in silence for a moment.

“Marcie’s to be reassigned,” said Wesley, after a moment. Oz nodded. “Good.”

“Thank you,” said Wesley. “Thank you for staying.”

“No worries,” said Oz. “Someone’s got to keep an eye (continued...)

( continues...) on everyone,” and with that, Oz left, leaving Wesley sitting alone in silence.

“That was pretty clever,” said Lilah’s voice, whispering in his ear. “They’ll never know what you gave up to save them, will they?”

“No,” said Wesley, his voice low and gravelly. “No, they won’t. But then, there were some victories, weren’t there?”

Wesley looked across the darkened room, to where the ghost of Winifred Burkle stood watching. Fred smiled, and Wesley smiled, and then she, too, disappeared.

And in a city somewhere outside of time, Ethan Rayne staggered mad and alone, a stump where his arm once was, toward a temple that housed slivers of the souls of fallen gods, as voices giggled and whispered torments in his ear.

And that's the real end.

Thank. Frickin'. God.

Well damn.

That was fudgin' great.

And stuff.